


Nothing is permanent

by Frasers_soulmate



Series: Little Ben [8]
Category: due South
Genre: Child Neglect, Childhood, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Other, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-20 21:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21288332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frasers_soulmate/pseuds/Frasers_soulmate
Summary: Robert and Benton are alone shortly after Caroline Fraser's death and Robert has no idea what to do with a six-year-old.But Ben wouldn't be Ben if he didn't think of anything.
Series: Little Ben [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/901197
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the translation of my German story "Nichts ist für immer" about Ben's childhood.  
It comes in three chapters.  
I would really appreciate some feedback.  
Enjoy! ;)

Darkness.  
Nothing but darkness.  
Not only out here in the Northwest Territories, where the sun didn't rise at this time of year, but also in Robert Fraser's heart.  
It had been two weeks since his Caroline left him forever.  
He was sitting in the dark, cold living room of the little cabin, where he had once been happy with his love Caroline.  
The cold in the room didn't bother him much. He was used to it, as a Sergeant of the RCMP he often had to spend the night outside when he was on patrol.

But now his heart was cold too.  
Frozen since the love of his life was no longer with him.  
And he didn't care.  
He didn't know how long he had been sitting in the once cozy wing chair by the now cold chimney.   
It didn't matter.  
Even if he followed his Caroline now, it wouldn't matter to him.  
Part of him had already died.  
Frozen.  
And he didn't care.

Then, in the small room next door, he heard a low whimper and suddenly remembered why he was still here. There was the boy. Robert's and Caroline's six-year-old son Benton.  
The child had found his mother. Outside in the snow.  
Lifeless.  
And if Robert hadn't come home by accident, the child wouldn't have been there either.

Robert leaned back and closed his eyes. He should take care of the boy, comfort him, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything. He just didn't have any energy left.  
The whimpering turned into a sob. Although Robert didn't know how long he had been sitting there, he knew that he actually had to be there for his son.  
The weeping made him angry. Why was the boy crying?  
He himself, Robert Fraser, did not cry either.

The next moment he was ashamed of his feelings. How could he just allow such feelings? The child was only six years old and had found his dead mother. He also grieved.  
Sighing, Robert got up and stretched his stiff limbs. Therefore, he must have sat there for a very long time. He was only twenty-nine, but he suddenly felt ancient.  
Shuffling, he walked slowly over to the chamber where his child was crying.  
But what should he do with the boy? He couldn't comfort him, for he found no consolation himself.

Silently, Robert opened the door to the chamber and looked in. His boy lay curled up in bed, facing the wall, crying softly.  
The room was freezing cold. The walls glittered in the pale moonlight, and frost grew on the windowpane.  
'It can't stay that way,' thought Robert, 'the boy freezes, yes.'  
He went to the small wood stove in the corner and put wood in it.  
When he lit the match, the weeping ceased.  
Robert paused and looked over at the bed.  
Two big, blue eyes looked at him in the flickering light of the wood-burning stove.  
Caroline's eyes. His heart cramped. He closed the oven door and got up.  
Then he walked over to the bed and sat on the edge. The boy looked at him. Robert smiled sadly and stroked his hair. Then he got up and left the chamber.

***************

Ben woke up and wondered why it was warm in the room. For days he had felt no warmth.  
Then he remembered that his father had been with him.  
Something about him had been strange. He had looked different somehow. And he had caressed him.  
Ben had almost forgotten how that felt. Then he remembered.  
His father had a beard!  
Never before had he seen his father with a beard.  
Did he only dream that?

He hugged the stuffed bear his mother had made for him when he was little, and closed his eyes.  
When he slept, she was with him. He missed his mum so much, but he didn't want to cry anymore.  
His dad had been with him, fueling the stove and sitting by his bedside. Then he had caressed him and left again.  
But where to go?  
Did he leave him alone?  
As well as his mum?  
Suddenly the boy got scared.  
Terrible fear.  
What if his dad left too?  
Then he would be all alone ...

He had to find out. But at the same time he was afraid that if he left his room, he wouldn't find his dad.  
Then he came to the realization that he could only find out if he looked. He got up, took his teddy and went to the door.

*****************

Robert had come to the conclusion that something had to change. He was responsible for a child.  
You could say a lot about Robert Fraser, but not that he was irresponsible.  
Well, first he wanted to see at the dogs in the barn. The sled dogs were his capital. A reliable team that he needed for his work.  
Then he wanted to make breakfast for the boy and wake him up.

Ben went quietly into the living room, but there was no light there. The fireplace was dark and it was cold.  
His dad was nowhere to be seen.  
Maybe he was still sleeping?  
Quietly, the boy opened the door to the master bedroom, but that too was empty.  
The bed was made and didn't look like it had been used recently.  
Ben stared at the side of the bed where his mum had always slept. When his dad was out on patrol, he had often come to her.  
Dad didn't like it when he slept with Mum.   
"The boy has to become independent after all, he's not a baby anymore," he always said.  
But when Dad was away from home, which was very common, Mum had allowed him to sleep in her bed.  
Ben felt hot tears enter his eyes and tie his throat.  
He swallowed and left the room. Even in the bathroom and the kitchen his father was not.  
The fear in the little boy's heart grew panic. His worst nightmare had come true, his dad had left him too.  
He crouched on the floor, pressed the teddy to his chest and screamed.

********************

Robert was in the barn, feeding the dogs. He spoke with them as with friends. It was much easier for him to share his concerns with them than with people.  
Of the people he was too often disappointed. He told them how much he missed his Caroline and that he didn't know what to do with his son when he went back to work.  
Gave him into childcare?  
Caroline would hate him for that.  
But he couldn't take the kid with him.

Sighing, he got up, patted the lead dog on the flank, took the stable lantern and left the barn.  
On the way back to the house, he suddenly heard a scream that penetrated his chest.  
At first he thought of an animal, in the woods behind the cabin, but then he realized that the scream had come from the cabin.   
Benton!  
Something had to happen to his son!  
He ran over to the house.   
"Benton!" he screamed as he pushed the door open.  
Where was the boy?  
A whimper came from the kitchen.  
Robert ran inside.

In the glow of his stable lantern, he saw a small sobbing heap of misery with dark curls and blue eyes staring at him in panic.  
Robert put the lantern on the floor and squatted next to the boy.  
"Son ..." he said quietly and put his hand on the child's back. "Are you okay, did you hurt yourself?"  
The boy didn't answer. He just looked at him with big, anxious eyes and trembled like aspen leaves.  
"Ben?", his father asked carefully. He was scared, he didn't know what was going on with his child.  
Suddenly the boy jumped up, hugged his dad and clung to him.  
He pressed his face into his father's neck and whispered in a trembling voice: "Dad ... Dad ... Dad ..."  
Over and over again.

Bob held the shivering and sobbing child in his arms and didn't know what to do next. He had no idea about small children.  
Painfully, he realized that he had no plan of what his boy needed.   
"Shh," Robert soothed, stroking the kid reassuringly. "Don't be afraid, my little one."  
"Don't go away ....", the boy whimpered.  
Well, Robert didn't mean to go away. At least not until he knew what to do with Ben.  
"I'm not leaving, son."  
"Promised?"  
"Of course!"

***************

Ben had fallen asleep again.  
Sleep was good.  
Sleep was safety, warmth and comfort.   
When he slept, he didn't feel the pain.   
Sleep protected from unwelcome thoughts and loneliness.  
Yes, sleep was good.

Robert sat back in the wing chair and stared straight ahead.  
What should he do?  
If only there weren't this incredible emptiness in him. He knew it couldn't go on like this.  
He didn't know when he had eaten for the last time. He also had no appetite.   
But what about the boy?   
When did he eat the last?  
Robert hadn't made anything to eat.   
How do you look after a six-year-old?   
What was the job of a single father?  
It was clear that it couldn't go on like this.

Ben woke up and looked out the window. Something was different.  
Light!  
Yes, the sun was shining outside!  
Well, at least she was peering over the horizon.  
It was summer!  
The long darkness was over.

The boy opened the window and leaned out. He took a deep breath. The icy air stung his lungs, but that didn't bother him.  
It was summer in the Arctic and he would go back to school.   
Although he painfully missed his mum, life went on.  
He climbed out of bed and ran barefoot into the living room. His dad was sitting in the chair by the fireplace as usual.  
"Good morning, Dad," said the boy, "Look out the window, the sun is here, it's getting summer, and I'm going back to school."  
His father looked through him and nodded.  
Yes, maybe that was a good idea.  
Ben sighed and went to the kitchen. It would be nice if his dad would be more communicative.

He opened the kitchen cupboard. A piece of hard bread and half a bag of oatmeal was all that was left. He poured a handful of oatmeal into a bowl, pushed a chair to the sink, climbed up, and let water run on the oatmeal.  
That didn't taste good, but it was filling his stomach for a while.  
And he was always hungry.  
Okay, today he would go to school.  
Dad would be here when he got home. He'd promised that.

The boy filled a second bowl of oatmeal, poured water over it, and brought it to his father. He set the bowl on the mantelpiece and said, "I've made breakfast, and I'm going to school now. See you this afternoon, Dad."  
His father didn't respond.

**************

At school, Ben received compassionate looks from his classmates and teachers. Some ignored him.  
That he liked more.  
He had no desire to answer questions.   
His class teacher, Ms. Barclay, put her hand on his shoulder and said, "Glad you're here, Benton."  
Ben liked Ms. Barclay a lot. She reminded him of his mum.  
She even used the same perfume.  
And most important, she accepted him as he was. For her, he was a student like everyone else, not the outsider who lived in the wilderness and preferred to read a book instead fooling around with the others.

Ben sat calmly and inconspicuously in the bench, hoping nobody would notice him. During the breaks he avoided everyone.

That's how time went by.

He went to school, trying to keep the house in order as far as possible and bought at Mr. Edwards, the local general store dealer, the most important things to life with telling him, he want to pay him later.  
He promised that his father would pay everything at the end of the month.  
The boy tried to live as normally as possible.

Robert spent most of the day in the barn with the dogs. In the evening he sat in the wing chair and stared straight ahead. He hardly responded to his son. It all seemed to work pretty well.

******************

At the end of the month, Ben had mixed feelings to ask Mr. Edwards for bread and oatmeal. And maybe even some milk.  
How he would like to drink a glass of milk now. Mr. Edwards said he could no longer help him if his father didn't pay.   
"This is the last time, boy," he grumbled, "go and tell your father to bring the money, no matter how sorry I am for what happened to you, but I can't afford it anymore. We have to live too, you know, I have to pay bills ... "  
Ben nodded and didn't ask for milk.

********************  
At home he put the bread and oatmeal in the cupboard and looked after his father.   
As usual, he sat in the armchair by the extinguished fireplace and stared straight ahead.  
Ben sighed.  
He didn't dare to ask him about the money for Mr. Edwards.  
Now he had to come up with something. If he gave up a breakfast sandwich, the bread would last longer.

He wished he knew how to bake bread.  
For breakfast he wanted to eat oatmeal with water and in the evening a thin slice of bread. There would be the same for his father.  
Then it would last longer and maybe his dad would pay the bill to Mr. Edwards by then.

He fetched water from the creek, turned on the kitchen stove for what he could, because he had often watched his mum doing it and put the kettle on.  
The laundry had to be done.

As he waited for the water to boil, he sat down on the kitchen floor and thought of his mom. He missed her very much.

*****************  
It was late when Ben finally got to bed. His stomach growled, because the thin slice of bread for dinner didn't fill you up when you were growing and doing physical work.  
He crawled into bed and pulled the blanket over his ears.  
Suddenly he remembered that he had forgotten to do his homework. He startled.   
Such a shame!  
But in all the activities in the house, he hadn't thought about it. Now he was too tired.   
Ms Barclay would be disappointed because he was her best student and he didn't want to disappoint her. He liked her.

********************

Robert went to the barn and fed the dogs. That was the only activity he performed. Benton had brought him a cup of tea and a piece of bread for dinner.  
He was already impressed that his only six-year-old boy took care of him, where he would rather take care of the boy. But he just wasn't able to do anything.

He lay down on the old blanket beside the dogs and tried to sleep. He hadn't slept in the double bed ever since his beloved Caroline was gone.  
He knew it couldn't go on like that, but he didn't have the strength to change anything. Tomorrow, he decided.   
Tomorrow everything will be different.

******************

Ben woke up, terrified that he had overslept. For a moment he thought about skipping school, but that would probably disappoint Ms. Barclay more than forgotten homework.  
He had planned to do the homework before school, but now it was too late.

He jumped out of bed, dressed quickly, and ran into the living room to tell his dad he had to make breakfast himself today, but his father wasn't sitting in the wing chair by the fireplace.  
Ben suppressed the burgeoning panic, picked up his school bag, and ran to the barn. He opened the gate a crack and heard his father speak to the dogs.  
Good.  
At least he was there.  
Even if the boy wished his father would talk to him like he did to the dogs. He sighed and closed the gate quietly.  
He only disturbed here.

*****************

The lesson was going on and Ben was tired. He wanted nothing more than to hide and sleep somewhere.  
Just sleep and forget everything.   
The sadness, the fear, the loneliness and above all the hunger.   
His stomach growls loudly and he coughs every time to drown out the embarrassing noise.  
Ms. Barclay asked him if he had caught a cold, but he said it was just a scratch in his throat.

She had said nothing when he admitted that he had no homework, just sighed.  
Ben apologized and promised to do the work until tomorrow.  
Ms. Barclay agreed.  
After this lesson would be the breakfast break. Then he could go out and fill his stomach with water while the others ate.

******************

Ben went outside during the break. He needed fresh air. Then he drank as much water as he could and went back inside. The other children had unpacked their breakfast and talked loudly, laughing and eating.  
Nobody was paying attention to Ben. He picked up a book and buried his nose in it.

On the way home Ben passed the houses of the settlement. It was lunchtime and the smell of freshly cooked food was in the air. The boy stopped and sniffed.  
He couldn't remember when he had the last hot meal.  
What would he give now for a warm soup? Or even for a piece of meat?

Suddenly he had an idea. He needed a job. Then he would make money and could pay Mr. Edwards. He could also buy food.  
Best of all, he would work for Mr. Edwards right away.  
Besides, he had learned to fish with his grandfather last year. He would build a fishing rod and catch fish that he would fry over the open fire. At the thought of that, his mouth was watering.

He didn't run home that day. What should he do there?  
His dad would sit in the chair as usual and stare straight ahead.  
Sometimes Ben thought his father died, too. It hurt to see him like that, but the boy had no idea how he could help him.  
That he needed help himself didn't come to his mind.

*********************

Mr. Edwards regarded the skinny boy deliberately and stroked his beard.   
"So ...", he grumbled, "you want to work?"  
Ben nodded eagerly. "Hm."  
Mr. Edwards scratched his head. "You're a little bit small ..."  
The child's heart sank in his pants.   
Yes, maybe he wasn't that tall and strong. But he was tough. And smart.  
"I'm big enough, Sir," Ben said confidently, "and I do everything you tell me! I'm strong! Here!"  
The boy pushed up his shirt sleeve, clenched his hand into a fist and let his scrawny muscles play. Mr. Edwards laughed.  
"A kid your age should play and discover the world, not work."  
Ben waved.  
"Oh ... playing is for toddlers."  
"But aren't you going to school?" The man wanted to know.  
"Sure." Ben nodded, "And I can work for you in the afternoon! I do homework additionally. Please, Mr. Edwards."  
Pleading, the boy looked at the grocery store dealer.  
He was sorry for little Fraser. He was so desperate.  
"How old are you?" The man asked.  
Ben went red.  
"Almost seven," he said, stretching his lean chest, "I'm old enough, Mr. Edwards."

The man laughed, shaking his head. This kid was neither old nor strong enough to work for him, but it was damned stubborn.  
"Your father can't pay the bill to send you to work?" Mr. Edwards asked.  
Ben stared in horror, rubbed his thumb over his brow and protested, "No, no, Sir, dad knows nothing about it, I want to help him."  
The man smiled indulgently.  
"Well, let's see," he said, "come back tomorrow, I need to think about it first."  
Ben agreed.

******************

In the evening, when Mr. and Mrs. Edwards were preparing to go to bed, Mr. Edwards said to his wife, "You know, Louise, little Fraser was with me today, asking if he could work for me for the debt to pay."  
Mrs Edwards, who was putting on her sleeping cap, looked at him in surprise.  
"What's wrong with his dad? Does he have no money?"  
Mr. Edwards shrugged.  
"I don't know, I haven't seen him for a long time."  
Luise climbed into bed.  
"I'm so sorry about what happened to them, Jonathan. Caroline was such a nice girl and always helpful. And now she isn't there anymore. How old is the boy now? Six?"  
"Almost seven, he claims." Mr. Edwards laughed.   
"Jonathan!", his wife reprimanded him, "There's nothing to laugh about! It's a tragedy! Robert Fraser should take care of the child!"   
Jonathan Edwards went to bed as well, put out the light and said, "Oh, you should have seen him. This tiny guy is incredibly tough. And stubborn."  
"Jonathan Edwards, you're not really going to let this kid work for you, he's supposed to go to school and play."  
Again the man laughed. "He says playing is for toddlers."  
"Oh god!" moaned Louise, "Jonathan ..."  
"Let him, Louise, I will not overstrain him."

******************

That night, Robert Fraser dreamed of his Caroline. She stood in front of him and looked at him reproachfully.  
"You neglect your duties, Robert!" She said seriously.  
"I miss you," Robert replied tortured.   
"Oh, Robert ..." Caroline sighed. "I miss you too, and Benny but we cann't change that. Our son needs his father. Pull yourself together and take care of him. Don't you see that he's taking care of you right now?"  
Robert groaned. "I'm not good at raising children, what am I supposed to do with him?"  
"Love him, Robert."  
"Caroline, I love Benton. More than anything else. And I'm proud of him."  
"Then tell him ..."  
She disappeared.

*******************

In the break, Ben secretly sneaked back into the schoolhouse while the others played outside.  
He was so hungry that he was already desperate. How many times had he seen his classmates leave some of their breakfast?  
Some even threw it away.   
He sneaked into the classroom and looked around.  
In the wastepaper basket he found only the leftovers of an apple. He wiped it and devoured it with stump and stick.  
This afternoon he wanted to fix Dad's old fishing rod. Then he could go fishing and if he was lucky, Mr. Edwards would let him work for him.

Under one of the school benches he saw a bread box. That belonged to Jack.  
Jack's father worked in the oil fields and earned a good amount if money.  
Jack and his sister Erica were always well dressed and had enough to eat. And Jack was one of the kids throwing away leftover food.  
Before he could think about it, Ben had pulled out the bread box and opened it.  
There were still two thick sandwiches and a handful of candies in it.  
Ben took one of the sandwiches and ate it with a few bites before changing his mind.  
He didn't touch the candies.

****************

Ben sat quietly in the classroom watching Jack secretly out of the corner of his eye.  
Would he somehow realize that he was missing a sandwich?  
The boy was ashamed and had a terribly bad conscience.  
He had stolen.  
He wanted to be a Mountie and had stolen.  
Not a good condition.  
But he had been so terribly hungry and Jack didn't even seem to notice that he lacked food.

"Benton!"

The boy was startled by his thoughts. Ms. Barclay frowned at him. He jumped up and pushed down his reading book.  
He bent down and picked it up. He hit his head against the tabletop.  
"Ow!" He cried out.  
The other kids laughed about his awkwardness.

He stood to attention, his face red like fire and looked at the teacher with huge eyes.  
"Yes, Ma'am!"  
Ms. Barclay smiled indulgently and asked, "Are you okay, Benton?"  
The boy nodded eagerly. "Yes, Ma'am."  
"Good, then please pay attention."  
He promised it.

*******************

In the afternoon he went straight to Mr. Edwards's store. He was incredibly nervous. Would the general merchant give him work? "Hello, Benton," said the man as Ben entered the store, "I've been waiting for you."  
Ben looked at him hopefully. "For real? Does that mean I can work for you, Sir?"  
Mr. Edwards grinned.   
"Come with me," he said mysteriously and waved to the boy.

He followed him full of expectation.  
They went to the back rooms, where there was a small, windowless office.  
"Can you read and write well, son?" Asked the man, "I mean, you're going to school ..."  
Ben cleared his throat and rubbed his brow with his thumb.  
"Um ... Yes, sir," he said bravely. "I'm already in second grade and I'm pretty good at arithmetic and Ms Barclay says I'm the best reader in the class."  
"Fine," Mr. Edwards nodded. "You know, my wife always says I have a terrible claw, like a cock has run over the paper, but the accounting books must look neat, because soon they'll be checked again, if we pay our taxes properly and so on."  
"And should I do that?" Ben was impressed.  
"If you have a clean handwriting?"

He put a sheet of paper to the boy. Then he gave him pen and ink.  
Ben had always written only with a pencil.  
Was he able to do that?  
Devoutly, he took the pen in his hand.  
"Have you ever written in ink?" Mister Edwards asked.  
Ben shook his head. "Um ... no, Sir," he answered truthfully. "But I want to learn it."

Mr. Edwards nodded. Then he picked up the quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and showed Ben how to do it.  
"So," he said, "and now you try it."   
Ben took the quill, dipped it in the ink, and put it on the paper.  
It scratched and splashed.  
"Oh dear!" The child exclaimed.  
Mr. Edwards laughed. "Yeah, that's how I started it too, loose wrist, boy, it's just a matter of practice."

The bell in the shop rang. "Clientele," said the man, apologizing.

Ben plunged the quill back into the inkwell and tried again. It had been so easy on Mr. Edwards hands.  
He put his tongue between his lips and carefully put the quill on the paper.  
Loose from the wrist, Mr. Edwards had said.  
Well... the quill no longer scratched, but it spattered. Maybe he just took too much ink?  
New trial...

At some point, Mrs. Edwards came into the tiny office.  
"Hello, Benton," she said. "You do that pretty well."  
Ben looked up, startled. "Good afternoon, Ma'am," he said dutifully, "thank you."  
She smiled. "You should take a break," she said. "Are you hungry?"

Of course he was hungry!

But politely, he shook his head. "No, Ma'am, and I haven't earned a break yet, I haven't even started work yet."  
Mrs. Edwards laughed. "Nonsense, boy, you're always hungry at your age, you're growing."  
"But, Ma'am ..." Ben protested, "Mr. Edwards said I should practice, I need the job so much."  
The pleading look from the big blue eyes broke her heart.  
"Mr. Edwards also says you deserve a break," she reassured the child. "You're welcome to ask him."  
Ben gave in and followed her.

Mrs. Edwards led him into the upper rooms and into the kitchen. There she instructed him to sit down at the large kitchen table and put a large glass of milk and a plate of home-baked apple pie in front of him.  
"Now eat," she said benevolently.  
Ben stared at the milk and the cake.   
Did he dream?

The smell of the cake made him dizzy and his stomach growled loud and clear.  
"But ..." Ben protested weakly.  
Mrs. Edward waved. "It's alright, boy, consider it as a part of your pay."  
"I can't do that, Ma'am," he said sheepishly and tugged at his ear.

Even if the sight of the delicacies let his mouth water, which is right must be right.  
"I don't have a contract yet," he insisted stubbornly.   
Now Mrs. Edwards laughed loudly.  
"Then consider it as a welcome gift."  
That, in turn, he could accept.  
"Thank you, Ma'am," he said and bit heartily into a piece of cake.

When Ben got home, it was already late. But he was full and satisfied.  
Tomorrow he was allowed to come back and continue.  
The last piece of cake he had carefully tucked into his coat pocket, wrapped in his clean, white handkerchief.  
It was for his dad.  
Bob sat in his chair as usual, but this time he wasn't staring, but writing something in a notebook.

Ben put the piece of cake on a plate, made tea and brought both to his father's living room.  
"For you, dad," he said, though he expected no response.  
"I'm working for Mr. Edwards now, I'm his personal accountant."  
Robert just frowned at him. Then he smiles briefly and says, "Okay, well, thank you, son."  
Ben grinned over both ears. At least his father had reacted to him.  
That evening he fell dead tired to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ms Barclay caught Ben stealing lunch and takes him at her home.  
She knows someone should take care of the kid.  
Then she has a conversation with Bob Fraser...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the second chapter.  
Right now at my 6th Due South Anniversary. ;)  
I would really appreciate some feedback.  
Enjoy!

Over the next few days, Ben took a few more bites out of his classmates' lunchboxes. But only the essentials and never sweets or other extras.  
He had a guilty conscience every time, but the hunger was bigger.   
It wasn't right what he did, but at home the food was almost used up and he didn't want to make any new debt to Mr. Edwards until the old ones were paid. They had made a contract, Ben had insisted.  
At the end of the month, he was to receive his wages, then he could pay the debts and buy new food. But until then it was more than two weeks and the little they had left should be given to his father.  
Mrs Edwards had food ready for Ben each time he came to the store after school to work.

But today he didn't go immediately. He went to church. It had been a while since his last visit to the church, the Frasers were not particularly religious, but he wanted to confess.  
His grandmother had once said that God forgave almost everything when you confessed. It was the first time for Ben and he was nervous.  
The priest knew him from the church choir, but since Ben's mum died, he had no time left for the choir.

Hesitantly he entered the church and walked slowly to the confessional. The big room was empty, the priest nowhere to be seen.  
Reverently, Ben looked at the altar above which Jesus hung on the cross.   
The boy considered asking him why he had allowed his mum to be killed.  
But Jesus wouldn't know, for Caroline Fraser had not been religious in the true sense.  
She believed in the power of Mother Nature. That's what she told Ben when he was little and they drove to Inuvik to the grandparents. That had been last spring, but Ben felt it was half a lifetime ago.

They had lived with the grandparents for a while and Ben had had many adventures in the big city. That had been a great time.  
In another life, in which he was carefree and happy.   
Longing, he thought back to that time and sighed. Then he went slowly to the confessional.

"What does a young man do in confession?"  
Ben was startled when he suddenly heard the priest's voice. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't realized how he entered the confessional.  
"I ... I have sinned," the boy stammered. He couldn't see the priest's smile.   
"What did you do that requires a confession, son?" Asked the priest in astonishment.  
"I stole," Ben admitted blushing.

The good-natured priest, who knew exactly who was sitting on the other side of the confessional, asked him what he had stolen and why and Ben told him bashfully.   
"Well," said the priest, "that's more like mouth robbery, son, and not really a sin but theft, even if hungry, is never good. You should recite the 'Lord's Prayer' for a week every night before you go to bed, then it is atoned for."  
This was the child's agreement.

***************

In the next few days, Ben didn't take anything from the lunchboxes of the others. He tried to endure the hunger until he got something from Mrs. Edwards in the afternoon.  
But it wasn't easy. From time to time he chewed tree resin. At least that helped against the annoying stomach growling.

When he came home late in the evening, he was so exhausted that he went straight to bed.  
His father continued to care for nothing, just sitting there staring or writing in his journal.  
Ben wanted to know what he was writing. The boy was angry with his father. Why couldn't he support him?  
It was so difficult to manage everything on his own. School, work, household …

He was too exhausted to do his homework. Ms. Barclay asks him if everything was alright. The hardworking, clever Benton once again had no homework. Besides, he always seemed to get thinner and paler.  
One day she took him aside and asked, "Is your father home, Ben?"  
He looked at her startled. What did she want from Dad?  
He nodded.  
"Fine," Ms. Barclay said, "tell him to come to school tomorrow afternoon, I have to talk to him."  
Ben got panic. A hot lump formed in his stomach.  
No! That was impossible!  
"Um ... that ... that's not possible, Ma'am," he stammered.  
Ms. Barclay frowned at him.  
"Why not?", She wanted to know.  
Ben had to come up with an excuse without lying.  
"He ... um ..."  
He tugged at his shirt collar.  
"He has no time", he says, knowing that he wouldn't get away with it.  
"So?" The teacher looked at him skeptically "What does he do that he cannot even come for an hour?"  
"He ... he works." The boy looked shamefaced to the ground. Somehow, writing was work, too. And he also took care of the dogs.  
Ms. Barclay shook her head, but left it at first.

In the break, as everyone else romped around the schoolyard, Ben crept back into the schoolhouse.  
He didn't really want to steal food, but he was so hungry that he had a stomach ache. One last time. He would also recite a few 'Lord's Prayer' more.  
In a few days he would get his reward from Mr. Edwards, then everything would be better. He looked under the benches and found Jack's well-stocked lunch box. He took out a thick ham sandwich and bit in hungrily.

Ms. Barclay wanted to prepare the next lesson and went to the classroom.  
When she opened the door, she saw the small, pale Ben standing in Jack's place, with his lunch box and a ham sandwich in his hand.  
He stared in horror, out of big eyes that had long since lost their sparkle.  
He stood frozen, unable to do anything. The teacher was alarmed.   
"Benton!" She called. "What are you doing?!"  
The boy doesn't answer, stood paralyzed and looked at her.  
She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked at him questioningly.   
"Now?"   
Slowly, Ben thawed. "I ... I ..." he stammered uncertainly. She had caught him stealing. That was horrible.  
Nothing could excuse that.   
"Jack never eats his lunch," he said quickly, putting the lunch box back under the table.

Ms. Barclay had long since seen through what he was doing. She wanted to help him.  
"Aha," she said, "and then he allowed you to eat it, which is very nice of Jack, you cannot waste food, and so that the others don't notice, you eat it when you're alone, right? "  
Ben's face was fire red.  
He could now just agree with his teacher and everything was fine. But that wouldn't be right. It would be a lie, though Ms. Barclay had served it on a silver tray, so to speak.  
Bad enough that he stole.  
"Um ...No, Ma'am, "he said softly and would have liked to sink into the ground.  
"I ... um ... Jack doesn't know about it ... I ... steal it."  
Ms. Barclay was amazed.  
This skinny, pale brat had guts.  
All respect!  
"And why?" She asked.  
The boy rubbed his thumb over his brow and said firmly, "Because I'm hungry, Ma'am."  
She smiled briefly. "Yes, of course, why else but why don't you just ask Jack if he gives you his leftovers? If he doesn't eat them anyway."  
Ben shrugged.  
Strange question!   
Jack would laugh at him and everyone would tease him because he was poor.  
But could he explain that to his teacher?  
She wouldn't understand.

"All right, Ben," she said, "that has to stop immediately, why don't you bring yourself a sandwich for lunch?"  
The boy shrugged again. "I ... I'll get my pay from Mr. Edwards next week, then I can buy bread," he said shyly.

Oh dear Lord!

This kid just didn't have a sandwich for lunch.  
"Pay?" She asked. Now the boy stretched his small chest and became a proud little bit bigger.  
"I work for Mr. Edwards," he said firmly.  
Ms. Barclay nodded. "Does your father get any wages?" She asked.  
"Yes…"  
"But?"  
"Nothing. It costs everything."  
The teacher went to him and stroked his dark curls.   
"Do you know what, Ben, come to me after school today, and now go out to the others, play."  
Ben nodded and walked out of the classroom. Play!  
It seemed like light years ago when he last had played.  
Playing was something for children who had a mother. And a father who cared.

After school, Ben considered what he should do. Actually, he wanted to go to Mr. Edwards's store as soon as possible, but Ms. Barclay had ordered him to meet her.  
When he explained Mr. Edwards …

"Ben?"  
Startled, the boy looked up.  
His teacher stood in front of him and looked at him. "Are you ready?"  
He frowned.  
"Ma'am ... I'm afraid I can't come with you," he said softly but firmly, "Mr. Edwards is waiting for me, he's getting a new delivery today and I need to help him unpack and sort things. If I lose my job ..."  
He looked up at her anxiously.  
She smiled. "If you lose your job, you have nothing to eat, right?"  
The boy nodded.  
"Alright," the teacher said, "I've already talked to Mr. Edwards, it's alright, you can come later today."  
Ben sighed.  
What did Ms. Barclay want from him?  
"Come on," she said and resignedly he followed her.  
At first he had thought she would want to talk to him at school, but she picked up her bag and left the schoolhouse.  
Ben trotted beside her.

They went to Ms. Barclay's home.  
Ben was surprised. He had promised her not to steal Jack's lunch anymore.  
Wasn't that enough?  
Did she want to punish him?  
And if so, how?  
Nonsense!  
Miss Barclay was nice.

******************

Ms. Barclay had been very surprised when she caught her model student stealing.  
But when she found out why he stole the leftovers of his classmates' sandwiches, she felt sorry for him.  
She knew he had recently lost his mother and was now alone with his father. But Robert Fraser didn't seem to care about his boy.

Benton was a very diligent student who liked to study. But his performance had dropped rapidly and he had repeatedly done no homework.  
Although his clothes were reasonably clean, they were not in good shape. As well as his schoolbag.   
And he stole the lunch sandwiches of his classmates. She had to help him.  
But this tiny, frail little fellow, with dark curls and huge, blue eyes in the pale face, was proud. And stubborn. She would love to nurse him, but she knew that he wouldn't take anything else.

*****************

They reached the house where the young teacher lived. She had two small rooms for rent there.  
The house itself was large and reminded Ben of his grandparents' home in Inuvik.  
Ms. Barclay led him into her little kingdom.

Ben looked around curiously. In the one room, which was probably the living room, stood a piano.  
Awesome, he glided his fingers over the polished wood. There were flowers on the piano. Colourful meadow flowers.  
In fact, there were many flowers and green plants in the small apartment.  
The small double window was rather low and decorated with delicate curtains held together with apricot-coloured ribbons.  
Also on the windowsill was a vase with flowers.

Ben looked out of the window into a small, cozy garden. Now he knew where the many flowers came from.  
Ms. Barclay was in the small kitchen, making tea.  
Ben took every detail in the small living room and saved it. A fireplace, an also with flowers printed couch with the associated wing chair.  
There was another window on the corner. On the opposite wall stood a large, dark cupboard in which, in addition to all sorts of kitsch, there were also books.  
Many books.  
On the table and dresser, as well as on the cupboard, lay crochet doilies and Ben wondered if Ms. Barclay made them herself.

On the dresser stood a bowl of apples and pears. Ben's mouth was watering.  
When was the last time he had eaten fruit?   
The apple leftovers from the trash didn't count.  
The boy picked up an apple and smelt it.   
He had gotten used to being fed up with smells. At least temporarily.  
Ms. Barclay came with the tea.  
"Ben ...," she said sternly.  
Did the boy want to steal food again?  
He had promised not to do it anymore. Frightened, the child dropped the apple and stared at his teacher.  
The apple rolled under the dresser.

Ben was startled when she called his name. The apple rolled under the cupboard.  
Ben looked up.  
No!  
He didn't want to steal the apple!  
Honestly.  
He just wanted to smell it.  
But Miss Barclay looked at him disappointed.  
"Oh, Benton," she sighed, "why don't you just ask me if you can have an apple?"  
Defensive, the boy raised his hands.  
"No, Ma'am!" He exclaimed in horror.  
She didn't think so ...  
"Oh dear," he sighed resignedly.  
"I'm sad, Ben," said the teacher.  
Ben believed her. She looked really sad.  
He hadn't wanted that. She shouldn't be sad, he liked her.  
"Miss ... Miss Barclay ... I ..." he stammered.  
"I'm disappointed," she replied, placing the tray of tea cups on the coffee table.

Ben dropped to his knees and looked under the dresser for the apple. Ms. Barclay watched him skeptically.  
In the far corner he saw it. He had to crawl halfway under the cupboard to get the apple, but he made it.  
Then he held out the fruit expectantly to his teacher and said proudly, "You see, Ma'am, I didn't bite in it!"  
He blew a dust lint from his forehead, which had caught there in a lock.  
Ms. Barclay frowned.  
Ben polished the apple neatly on his sweater and put it back in the bowl.  
"I just smell it," he said firmly, "smelling is almost like eating, except that you're not fed up for so long."

"Come here and sit down," Ms. Barclay said. Ben hesitated, but then came over and sat in the wing chair.  
Ms. Barclay poured tea into the cups. A plate of home-baked cookies was also on the table.  
"Take some," said the teacher. She didn't have to say that twice.  
He took a cookie and bit off a tiny bit. He closed his eyes and slowly let the bite melt on his tongue. The teacher was surprised. She had rather expected that he devoured the cookie greedily.  
She smiled. "What are you doing?" She asked.  
Ben opened his eyes and looked at her innocently.  
"I enjoy it," he answered gravely, "This will be the only cookie I'll have for a long time, I know that, and that's why I store the taste, it lasts forever, at least until my birthday. Then I can remember the taste and pretend that I have cookies for my birthday."

He sounded so proud that it brought tears to Ms. Barclay's eyes.  
But what the boy then said, in his childishly naive way and so proud, made her cry.   
He said, "It's a brilliant skill, Miss Barclay, you should try that too. When I come home from school at noon, I always walk a bit through the streets and collect food scents in my head."  
He tapped at his temple.  
"I do it the same way when someone caresses me. I remember exactly how my mum stroked me the evening before she came back. In the evening I lie in bed and stroke myself. Then I sing the song that Mum sang to me every evening and pretend she's still there. I mean, she IS there. In my heart."

Ms. Barclay took her handkerchief and wiped the tears from her face.  
She was so sorry for this child. It had nothing, but tried to make everything out of it.  
An incredible ability that helped to survive.  
"Ben ...", she said and had to suppress a sob.  
The boy looked expectantly at her.  
"Yes Ma'am?"  
"You need help."  
Ben raised his hands defensively.  
"No!", He shouted in alarm and stood up. "No, Ma'am, I'll be fine, I'm working at Mister Edwards..."

Just don't attract attention!

If his dad noticed that, he got angry. Frasers didn't beg!  
But Ms Barclay said something else, "Do you want another job, Benton?" Surprised, the boy looked at her.  
A second job?  
Why not?  
He desperately needed new boots. And Dad could use something new, too.   
"Okay," he answered watchfully. "What should I do and what do I get for it?"

Ms. Barclay laughed. The little Fraser was clever.   
"Well," she said, "you could mow the lawn, for example, once a month, and you'll get $ 5. Do you want to learn to play the piano?"  
"What?"  
Once a month, $ 5 extra would be fine.  
But what about the piano? Of course, learning piano was certainly interesting, but how could he pay the lessons?  
He nodded.  
"Good," the teacher clapped her hands. "Say, twice a week for an hour? You get a hot meal for it."  
This irritated the child. He should get something for learning something?  
That was strange. He calculated in his head. Learning to play the piano two hours a week, two hours a day, six days a week, with Mister Edwards, twelve hours a week.  
Forty-eight hours a month, mowing the lawn, which might take another two hours, makes fifty hours a month. Added to school and his responsibility at home, for which he got nothing.

He received $ 5 a week from Mr. Edwards and a hot meal daily.  
For the money he wanted to buy the most needed food. When they didn't need anything or money is left, he wanted to put it in a cup in the kitchen cupboard to save it for things like badly needed clothes or unpredictable repairs.  
Or for the vet, when one of Dad's dogs got sick. The dogs were his capital, he said.  
If something happened to them, he could no longer do his job properly.  
However, Ben asked himself if his father ever went back to work.  
The RCMP wouldn't pay him forever for doing nothing.  
But then what?

Ben knew that he alone couldn't make a living. But if he had an extra meal with Ms. Barclay twice a week for piano learning, he would have to buy less food at Mister Edwards. That saved money. Plus $ 5 a month for mowing the lawn at Miss Barclay's. At least over the summer.  
Maybe he could swap lawn mowing with snow shoveling in winter?  
Well, then he would have $ 20 left by the winter. If nothing else came in, he'd buy a new jacket for Dad and maybe even get his broken boots repaired. That would be great.

"Agreed," he said, offering his little, dirty hand to the teacher.  
"Would it be possible if I could learn piano on Sundays? I don't have much to do then."  
And the prospect of a Sunday dinner made him smile.  
"All right," agreed Miss Barclay and took his hand.  
In parting she put one of the apples out of the bowl.  
"Take, Ben," she said,as he looked at her wide-eyed, "I know you didn't want to steal it."  
Ben thanked her and left.

*******************

Miss Barclay thought about this strange child for a long time.  
What about his father?  
Why didn't he care?  
She decided to pay Robert Fraser a visit.   
It didn't work like that.

********************

Ben was diligent. He helped Mister Edwards, took care of the Fraser household, and went to school.  
Only the homework he made rare. He simply couldn't do it. Actually, he wanted to do it in the evening before going to bed, but mostly he fell asleep.  
Then they were incomplete or not even started.

The most beautiful days were the Sundays at Miss Barclay. He skipped the church and the choir and went to his teacher to learn to play the piano.  
At first he sat on the piano stool, laying his dirty little fingers on the keys and not knowing what to do with them.  
When the teacher saw his grubby hands, she shook her head and said, "You know, Ben, playing the piano is almost like going to church, it's something sacred, you don't go there with dirty hands. Go to the bathroom and wash them."

Ben blushed and hid his hands behind his back. He was terribly ashamed. Then he had put on his best shirt and polished his shoes, as well as tried to tame his curls, but he hadn't thought of his hands.  
Ashamed, he looked at the black mourning margins under his nails.  
It wasn't so easy to get enough water to wash enough. As long as it was warm, Ben hopped into the icy river to wash himself. When it rained, he ran out, wearing only his underpants.  
He saved the soap, it only cost money.

The problem was that he simply couldn't carry the big bucket when it was full of water. With the little bucket he would have to go a hundred times to fill the wash tub.  
And if he heated the water, it would take the whole day.  
He simply didn't have the time.  
He longs for a hot bath and soap scent. Like when his mum used to bathe him on Saturdays.  
But that was a long time ago, in another life. Long gone.  
Now it was only enough for a cat wash.

The only time when his hands were really clean was when he did the laundry. Down the river. He also used the soap for that. So that at least the laundry smelled good.

With wide eyes he looked at his teacher.   
"I'm sorry," he mumbled bashfully.  
Then he got up and went to the bathroom to wash his hands.

Miss Barclay's bathroom was special. Ben had never seen anything like it.  
Apart from the fact that the Frasers had no bathroom, only the old wash tub, the wash bowl with the crack, and a dump toilet behind the barn, Ben had already seen a bathroom.  
For example, with Mr. Edwards. But that was also spartan, with a narrow sink, a zinc tub whose creaking metal surface he could only touch with a shudder and, after all, a simple water closet.

But Miss Barclay's bathroom seemed to come from a fairy tale. It was full of light and whitewashed. The bathtub was also white. Also the sink and the toilet.  
The feet of the tub were squiggled, as was the frame of the large mirror above the sink.  
Pastel-colored accents were set everywhere, in light blue and pink.

Ben stared open-mouthed and wondered. The mere fact that a whole room, almost as big as his bedroom was at home, used only for personal hygiene, seemed to be megalomaniac.  
But there was running water and so you didn't have to get it outside from the pump.

Devoutly, Ben ran his hand over the rim of the tub.  
The tub was huge!  
Not as small as the wash cowl at home, where he could barely stretch out his legs while sitting.  
In this tub here, he could almost swim!  
He looked around and climbed into the tub.  
Wow!  
He stretched out completely and still had room.  
How wonderful it had to be to bathe in it! All around were various vials, tubes, and flasks.  
Ben unscrewed them one after the other and smelled it. Wonderful fairy-tale scents emanated from them.  
He closed his eyes and dreamed.  
So it had to be where his mum was now …

"Ben? Are you alright?"  
Ms. Barclay knocked on the door and brought the boy back from his dreams.  
Confused, he blinked and before he could climb out of the smooth tub and close all the bottles again, without any of them falling down and breaking, Ms. Barclay had already opened the door.  
"Benton!" She exclaimed irritated when she saw him squatting in her bathtub. "What are you doing?!"  
He stared at her with a blue deer-in-the-headlight look and stammered, "I ... I ... Sorry, Ma'am ..."  
She smiled.  
The boy was very curious, she knew that.   
"Do you like my bathroom?" She asked.  
He was confused. Actually, he had expected a stand-up timpani and that she drove him away.  
But his teacher kept surprising him.   
Ben carefully returned the bottles to their place and climbed out of the tub.  
"Yes, Ma'am," he answered. "It's like a fairy tale, I never saw such a tub."  
Miss Barclay laughed.

"Would you like to bathe in it?" She asked.  
Ben gaped at her with an open mouth.   
And if he wanted that!  
"Now wash your hands and come," says the teacher and smiled to herself.

******************

Miss Barclay felt sorry for the neglected boy. Ben self considered himself the happiest person in the world. He really enjoyed spending Sundays with his teacher. To cook with her, to eat, to bathe in her fairytale tub and to learn to play the piano with her. It was almost as if he had a mother again.

*****************

Bob Fraser was glad that apparently someone was looking after his son. The boy had a new haircut, seemed to eat regularly, and every other Sunday he smelled like a flower field.  
He himself, Robert, just had no power to worry about anything.  
Not even for himself.  
He was unkempt and smelled of dog. In addition, his beard and his hair were getting longer.

His boy, who looked so much like his mother that Bob could hardly look at him without crying, brought him food, water and clean clothes. Bob had no idea where the kid got food for.  
He didn't care as long as the kid didn't beg. Maybe he would ask him when he got home.

*********************

Week after week passed and the children had summer holidays. Ben had more time now and asked Mr. Edwards if he could work for him during the holidays, but the grocer said there wasn't much going on during the holiday season.  
So the boy had free time that he couldn't do anything with.  
He had no friends and so he wandered alone and sought employment.  
He fixed Dad's old fishing rod and went catching fish.  
Those who didn't eat them, he sold unceremoniously, so he got even a few cents in addition, which he meticulously saved.  
He wanted to buy a gift for Ms. Barclay. As a thank you for all that she had done for him.

*********************

Miss Barclay had planned a trip to Whitehorse with her family for the holidays. She would be gone for four weeks.  
Now she considered how to tell Ben. The Fraser boy had become so used to their Sundays.  
Every other Sunday he was allowed to use the bath so admired by him and he enjoyed it.  
He loved cooking together, playing the piano and helping out in the garden. It was almost as if his mother was back, but she also knew that she couldn't replace his mother.

Before she went to visit her family, she had to talk to Ben's dad. He should take care of his son. The boy was only six years old.  
But instead, the child took care of his father, working casually and getting food.  
That wasn't acceptable.  
Little Fraser was very intelligent, clever, and learned fast. It would be a shame about the wasted potential.  
She was very angry with Robert Fraser.  
The conversation that she had delayed for Ben's sake for so long was long overdue.

*******************

Robert Fraser was in the barn with the dogs when he heard someone calling his name.  
A woman's voice.  
Who could that be?  
He growled and stepped out of the barn.  
A young woman stood in front of him and looked him up and down.  
"Mr. Fraser?" She asked.  
He nodded silently.  
Who was she and what did she want from him?  
"I'm Miss Barclay, Benton's teacher," she introduced herself.  
She hadn't told the boy about the planned conversation and had given him a job that would take him longer, so he wouldn't accidentally get caught in the middle.  
Ben had gone with the prospect of an extra dollar.

Miss Barclay knew the conversation with his dad wouldn't be easy and she wanted to keep the boy out of it.  
Robert looked at her skeptically and muttered, "It's vacation, or did the kid do anything?"  
Disapprovingly, the young woman shook her head. Didn't the man see that his little boy was trying to somehow get them through?  
No, how should he?  
He was so caught up in self-pity that he couldn't even take care of himself.  
Already how he looked!  
Unshaven and shaggy. His clothes were dirty and often mended. It was messy around the barn and the house.  
Everywhere were equipment, tools and debris. A six-year-old alone COULD not keep all that in order.

"No," said the teacher, "Ben didn't do anything, but I still need to talk to you urgently, can we go inside?"  
"I'm busy," Bob growled annoyed.  
"If the boy didn't do anything, it's good."  
Now Ms. Barclay was upset.  
Yes, Bob Fraser may be busy, but unfortunately with the wrong things.  
Well, he had lost his wife, that was bad, but did he have to let himself go like that?   
"No, it's not good!", Said the teacher determined, "And if you don't want to ask me into the house, I can accept your rudeness, but I'll still say what I have to say, even if can hear the whole world. And it will not be pleasant for you!"

Now Bob saw her face and the spirit of a smile played around the corners of his mouth for a moment.  
He liked this woman. She was resolute and that reminded him of his beloved Caroline. She had been the same.  
Oh, Caroline!  
He rubbed his hand over his face and suddenly felt ancient.  
"Come on," he growled, trudging ahead.

The cabin was dark and untidy. It didn't smell good either. Bob pointed to a chair from which he had quickly taken some clothes that had been lying there.  
Dirty dishes were on the table and the mantelpiece and it would urgently be swept through again and dust wiped.  
And above all, aired.  
In such an environment, you couldn't live with a child.  
Beside the door stood a laundry basket with dirty clothes. Did Bob Fraser want to wash it, or was that what Ben did?  
She suspected the latter.  
Without asking, she went to the window and opened it.  
Bob Fraser watched her but said nothing.  
He let himself fall groaning into his wing chair. Miss Barclay took a seat in the armchair Bob had vacated before.

"Well, what do you want?" The man asked unfriendly. He didn't feel like receive visitors. Miss Barclay met his eyes. He had the same blue eyes as his son.  
She wondered how she should explain it to him. "Mr. Fraser," she said, "do you know what Benton does in his free time?"  
Bob growled. "I don't know what kids do in their spare time."  
Ms. Barclay shook her head. "Is he getting enough to eat?" She asked.  
Bob got angry. "We have food, thanks."  
"Do you take care of the supply?", the young teacher wanted to know now.  
"I don't think that's your business!" The man snapped.  
Ms. Barclay sighed. "Mister Fraser," she said, softer but insistent. "I understand that you're mourning, I'm really sorry you lost your wife, but Ben lost his mother and now he's taking all the responsibility. He's only six years old! You should take care of him, not the other way around. Do you know what he is doing? He works! He helps Mister Edwards in the store so you both have something to eat. He also mows the lawn with me, learns to play the piano and cook. But I can't take over your duty forever. I will travel to Whitehorse for four weeks to visit my family. Ben will not have anyone to take care of him in this time if you don't. What happened to you and your son is really sad, but you should finally take responsibility. I'm sure your wife would disapprove of your behavior.

Bob jumped up from his chair.  
That was really too much!  
What was this woman actually doing?!  
"You don't know anything about me!" He shouted, "And certainly not of my wife! Get out!"

Yes, something like that Ms. Barclay had feared.  
She stood up and said firmly, "If you don't start looking after your boy, I'll call in the authorities and tell your superiors, Ben didn't deserve that, Goodbye!"  
With that she left the house.

*****************

When the teacher left, Bob sat in his wing chair by the fire, sighing, and holding his face in his hands.  
"Oh, Caroline!" He groaned, "what am I supposed to do, I miss you so much."  
He felt his heart ache and his throat tighten.  
Isn't Ben's teacher right?  
She wanted to turn on the authorities.  
They would take the boy away from him and put him in childcare.  
Well, maybe that wasn't a bad idea at all?

The boy worked, his teacher had said. Bob thought he was vaguely reminded that Ben had told him about it.  
That also explained where the food came from. So far, Bob didn't care.  
He was interested in nothing.  
Since Caroline died, he had stopped living.  
He was only painfully aware of that, but what should he do?  
He was so alone.  
Lost.  
He couldn't do anything about it.  
But he had to!  
He had to start living again.  
And he had to take care of Benton.  
Yes, he was weak, but it was time he woke up.  
That he could distinguish the hawk from the handsaw again.  
The wind had turned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert finally woke up and decided what to do with Ben.  
His superior visited him and told him to come back to work.  
Now he figured something out that's probably pleasant for both of the Fraser men.  
The big and the little one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, here's the last chapter of this little story. I really hope you enjoy it. At least a bit.  
I would love if you like it.  
Have fun.

Sunday morning. Ms. Barclay knew Ben would show up at any moment. Then she had to explain to him that they wouldn't see each other for four weeks.   
Tomorrow morning she would fly to Whitehorse with the bush pilot. For a moment she had considered staying here. For the sake of Ben.  
But she hadn't seen her family for a long time and her sister had a baby. She would like to meet her little niece. Despite everything, she also had a private life and Ben was strong.  
He would manage it.  
And maybe her words had fallen on fertile ground with Bob Fraser, who knows?

Ben poked his head through the crack in the door and grinned crookedly.  
"Hello, Miss B.," he said shyly.  
"Hello, Ben. Come in," the teacher replied. He didn't let that happen twice. By now he felt more at home here than in his cabin, with his silent father. He loved him, no question, but he could do nothing with him.  
He imagined he would live with Ms Barclay forever.  
Suddenly he had an idea.  
Now he just had to find a way to make it plausible to his teacher.

They cooked lunch together and laughed a lot. As the food on the stove simmered, Ben practiced the piano.  
Ms. Barclay praised him for learning so quickly. "That's because I enjoy it," he said with conviction, "and you're an excellent teacher."  
"Oh, thanks, Benton," she replied, blushing, "that's the nicest compliment I've had in a long time."  
That gave Ben the courage to bring his idea to the table. "Miss B.? Do you want to adopt me?" He blurted out before he was afraid of his own courage.  
"I mean... you don't have to worry much about me. I can take care of myself, I will continue to work for Mr Edwards and take better care of the school. I always want to do my homework. It's just that I haven't had a chance lately. I was too busy. But that should change, promised!   
I'll just sleep less, then I'll have time for my homework. I don't want to miss playing the piano or the Sunday bath every two weeks. It's much nicer with you than at home and I could pretend that I have a mother again. I ...I miss my mum, Miss Barclay."

The boy was rambling on and Ms. Barclay's heart broke. Actually, she wanted to say today that she wanted to visit her family, but now she was convinced that Ben couldn't cope without her.  
She was so mad at Bob Fraser.  
She crouched down in front of the boy and took his little hands in hers. Then she looked into his pretty blue eyes, begging but hopeful.  
At that moment, she decided to postpone her trip and write a letter to her family telling them she would come later.  
"Ben," she said softly, "an adoption, you know ... it's not that easy, you have a father after all."

The boy didn't know anything about her visit.  
"Yeah ... my dad," Ben said hurtly, "My dad doesn't care if I'm alive or dead, Ms. Barclay, it's not easy not to be loved, but maybe I can pretend you're would love me. I mean, you have to like me a little, otherwise you wouldn't teach me piano in your free time or cook with me and even let me bathe in your tub. I would be happy if I could be your child, Miss B., but if you don't want me, it's okay too. I'll be fine on my own." He smiled and got up.  
Ms Barclay also stood up and let go of his hands. She didn't know what to say. She felt terribly sorry for this little, black-curled guy with big blue eyes.   
"Not every six-year-old can claim to be fine on their own," said the boy, his chest swollen with pride. "I'll go then," he added.  
She didn't need to know that he was fighting tears.  
"Ben!" She called, "you haven't eaten yet."   
He didn't dare turn around for fear she would see his tears.  
"I'm not hungry," he said in a rough voice.  
No, he didn't want to leave. Wanted to spend the Sunday with her, in his self-chosen home. But he had to, if he wanted to keep the last spark of dignity left to him.  
"Ben! Wait!" Ms Barclay's voice sounded haunting, and though he already had his hand on the door handle, he paused.  
Something in her voice stopped him.  
Then she was with him and just hugged him. He no longer tried to hold back his tears and gave them free rein.

******************

Bob's boss was starting to worry about his subordinate. Well, Sgt. Fraser had lost his wife and had to take care of his little son, but eventually he had to come back to work. He could no longer be paid to do nothing.  
Inspector Williams couldn't cover his best man for long anymore, then he would have to give an account to his superiors. He urgently needed to talk to Bob Fraser.

When he was about to leave for work that morning, his wife had asked him to bring some things from Mr Edward's grocery store that evening.  
It had been a tiring day and Inspector Williams was tired and exhausted when he entered the store.  
The bell above the front door rang and a small, dark-haired boy sweeping the shop floor turned and looked at him with big, blue eyes.

"Good evening," Williams said kindly. Somehow the boy seemed familiar to him. "Good evening, Inspector," the child replied. Williams frowned. He wore his uniform, but he still wondered how the child could know his rank. It was at the most six or seven years old.

"Mr. Edwards will be right there for you, Sir," the kid said diligently. The inspector wondered what the boy was doing.  
"Do you work here?", He wanted to know.  
The child nodded. "Yes, Sir, I'm helping Mr. Edwards, so I get food and sometimes some money."  
It sounded proud.  
"And your parents?" Williams asked.  
The boy shrugged.  
"My mother is dead," he said softly.  
Now the Mountie was suspected.  
"And your father?"  
Again the little boy shrugged.  
Williams now knew why this tiny guy had recognized his rank.  
He had grown up with it.  
"You're Bob Fraser's boy, aren't you?" He asked.  
The child nodded. "Yes, Sir."

At that moment Mr Edwards stepped out of the back room and Williams was distracted. While Mr Edwards was collecting the goods for the Inspector, the latter considered what the boy's name was.  
It was some unusual name.  
And why was the boy working here?  
Fraser still got his pay, he could probably feed them both. He looked around.  
There stood the little Fraser boy and stared at him.  
Mr. Edwards packed the groceries and asked, "Are you done, Benton, then go upstairs, Mrs. Edwards has finished the meal."  
Ben blinked and nodded. "Yes, Sir."  
He put the broom in the corner and disappeared through the back door.  
Right, Benton was called the dwarf. Williams smiled. His mother had chosen this unusual name. Bob had told him the story behind it too, but he had forgotten it.  
He cleared his throat and asked the shopkeeper, "Mr. Edwards, is that Sgt. Fraser's boy?"  
"Yes. Benton. A diligent and polite little boy. And frugal. He works for me. Well ... you cannot call that work directly."  
He laughed. "I gave the food he brought on credit for a while because he had no money and his father didn't come to pay the debt. The boy asked me if he could work off these debts.  
I wanted to release it, but he said they would continue to need food. Well, and his father never paid. So I gave him smaller tasks, like sweeping the store or shelving it, cleaning up a bit and cleaning up my books. He has a beautiful handwriting. But he gets what he needs and every evening a hot meal. He was so terribly thin that it teared my heart. His father can't take care of him, now this guy is providing them both. He is quite small, but incredibly tough. And proud. Will not do anything for free. Stubborn lad."  
Mr. Edwards laughed again.  
"Why can't his dad take care of him?" Inspector Williams wanted to know, but Mr. Edwards shrugged.  
"Don't know, haven't seen him since Caroline's death. Tragic story. "  
Inspector Williams nodded. Then he paid his purchases, said goodbye and left the store. He couldn't leave it that way. He had to do something.  
Inspector Williams didn't go home yet, even though his wife was waiting for the purchases. First he had to talk to Bob Fraser, and urgently.

*****************

Bob had taken care of the dogs, made himself a cup of tea and was now sitting in his chair by the fireplace again.  
He thought of what the young teacher had said. Yes, he really should take care of his son. The child was too young to take care of both of them.  
Sighing, he looked around the cabin. It looked really messy and dirty, Caroline had always paid attention to cleanliness. Benton needed a decent home.  
Maybe he should seek help?  
Suddenly he felt ancient. Slowly he got up from his chair and picked up a piece of clothing from a chair. It was one of Ben's pants. Although it was freshly washed, but had a crack over the knee. The next piece of clothing he picked up was one of his shirts, which also had a tear.

Caroline's sewing basket stood on the table. Ben wanted to fix the clothes? Could the child even sew? Well, Bob wanted to do that. After all, he had learned that at the military academy.  
He opened the sewing basket and looked in. Besides needles and yarn, he also found a dozen different-colored patches and fabric remnants.  
Yes, that was his Caroline, gathering everything to keep using it.  
He took out one of the patches and smelled it. It smelled like Caroline. Tears ran down his face.  
"Oh, Caroline ...." He sobbed.

Then it knocked on the door. Startled, Bob put back the patch and quickly wiped the tears from his face.  
Who disturbed him again?  
He wasn't ready for visitors.  
Maybe if he pretended that he wasn't here …

It knocked louder and more demanding.  
"Sergeant Fraser?"  
Uh-oh! The voice of his supervisor, Inspector Williams!  
Slowly he shuffled to the door and opened it. The inspector stepped back in alarm as the door opened.  
He had actually expected his subordinate, the only 29-year-old sergeant Robert Fraser, but in front of him was an old man with a beard, who had no shine in his eyes.

It took a moment for Williams to realize that this bearded, skinny person was the rightful inhabitant of this cabin.  
He hid his dismay and asked if he could enter.  
Reluctantly, Bob released the door.  
The cabin looked dark and untidy.  
Even Fraser himself made an unkempt and neglected impression. Not only because of the long beard.  
Williams sighed. What had happened to his best officer?  
Well, he had lost his wife and grieved. But the Inspector also saw that Bob Fraser had lost himself. Just given up. He needed a task.

"May I sit down?" Inspector Williams asked, and Bob cleared the clothes from the chair and pointed his hand on it.  
He didn't say a word.  
"Thanks," Williams said, sitting down.  
He didn't expect Fraser to offer tea or coffee at all. He had put his shopping bags on the table. Bob had sat opposite him and looked at him expectantly and skeptically.  
"So sergeant," began the inspector, "how are you?"  
He didn't expect an honest answer.  
"Good,thank you" Bob growled. "What brings you to me, Inspector?"  
Williams grinned inwardly. Typical Fraser, always straight to the point.  
"Well, I wanted to know when you intend to come back to work, we need you, Fraser."  
Bob looked at him openly. For the first time he saw someone straight in the eyes, since the death of his beloved wife.  
"Really?" He asked in disbelief.  
"Yes, of course, you are one of my best men," Williams replied.  
Bob rubbed his face, stroking his beard. Oh dear! That damn beard had to go. And he would probably need a haircut too. Suddenly it occurred to him that it wasn't that easy to go back to work. The boy!  
"First, I have to find a place for Benton," he replies, "the kids are on vacation."  
Williams nodded. "Do that. Until then you can take him to work."

***************

When Ben came home that evening, his father didn't sit in his armchair by the fire as usual, but tidied up the cabin.  
Astonished, the boy watched him.  
"Hello, son," Bob said and something like a smile crossed his face.  
Ben looked at him wide-eyed. "Hi, Dad," he replied softly.  
It was the first time after his mother's death that his father seemed to see him.  
Ben wondered about his dad. What happened? Well, whatever it was, it could only get better. Without a word, the boy took the broom and began sweeping the room. He wanted to help his father.

Later, when Ben was in bed, suddenly the door to his room opened and his dad came in.  
"Ben? Are you sleeping?" He asked softly.  
The boy was confused. For ages it hadn't happened that his father came to his room to talk to him.  
He didn't know what to answer or if at all.  
What should he talk to his dad about?  
About mum?  
Too painful.  
About the future?  
Too unsafe.  
Bob came to him and sat on the edge of the bed. Ben closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.  
Bob hesitantly laid his hand on his boy's cheek.  
Then he started to caress him and whispered, "I'm sorry, Ben, but from now on everything will be better, I promise."  
He got up and left the chamber.  
Ben stared into the darkness, wondering what would happen.  
Bob Fraser stood in the doorway to his boy's room and watched him sleep. The moon shone through the window, illuminating the small room. Bob smiled. His little one looked so much like his mother.  
"I love you, son," Bob whispered. Then he quietly closed the door, went into the living room and lit the kerosene lamp. He fetched paper and ink, sat down at the table and began to write a letter:

Dear mother, dear father,

it hasn't been good since Caroline's death. I'm so unspeakably sad. I really hope that the pain will eventually go away.  
Now I have made a mistake.  
A terrible mistake.  
I neglected Benton.  
It wasn't really my intention, but I was so caught up in my grief that I almost forgot the little guy. But the other day his teacher was here and told me her opinion.  
She is a very patient person, even if she's still quite young.  
She took care of Ben, which is actually my job. Even playing the piano she teaches him.  
He is very musical. He has that from Caroline. Oh, I miss her so much.  
But I never thought that the boy could miss his mother either. That was selfish of me. The child is only six years old and even helped out at the local grocery store to earn the food for us..

In all my grief and pain, I didn't even care about the supply. One night Caroline appeared to me in a dream and told me not to forget that I have a son who needs me. But now I have absolutely no idea how to raise a six-year-old and his teacher is traveling over the summer.  
Today my supervisor, Inspector Williams, was here, saying he saw Ben at work when he was shopping.

He said I should come back to work if I wanted to continue getting my pay. And I'm ready to work again.  
When Williams left, he left bananas from his grocery bag.  
For Benton.  
The boy loves bananas.

Oh, I'm so ashamed, mother!  
But what shall I do?

Now I wanted to ask you if you can take Ben for a while.  
I urgently need to fix some things until I figure something out that's acceptable as a single parent.  
Please let me know as soon as possible if you can take the boy over the summer. I thank you.

Best regards, Robert

Robert Fraser put the letter in an envelope and wrote down his parents' address in Inuvik.  
Tomorrow he would send it.  
He only hoped that his parents would agree and take the boy for a while, so that he could fix a few things and find a ministry compatible with the education of a six-year-old.

Robert washed and shaved, even cut his hair and then went to bed.  
It was time that life was back to normal.  
That night, for the first time since Caroline's death, he slept in the double bed.

****************

When Ben woke up in the morning, he sensed that there was something different than usual. He climbed out of bed, dressed quickly, and went to the kitchen. With wide eyes he looked at his father, who sat freshly shaved at the window and cried.  
"Dad?" The boy asked hesitantly.  
Bob looked at him and smiled through his tears.  
"Come here, son," he said, spreading his arms.  
Ben slowly walked over to him. Bob pulled his boy in and took him in his arms.  
"Oh, Ben," he said, sobbing, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I love you, boy and I miss your mother. "

Tears came to the child's eyes, too. Suddenly he realized that he didn't have to be strong anymore.  
Now Ben was allowed to let himself go and return responsibility to his father.   
"I miss Mum too," he whispered.  
After a while, Ben freed himself from his father's embrace. He was hungry. Bob had made him breakfast.  
Oatmeal with real milk!  
And bananas in it!  
Ben was happy.  
Now everything was fine.

****************

Bob Fraser went back to work that day. Ben took care of the household and then ran to Ms. Barclay to bring her the news.  
The teacher seemed relieved.  
"You know, Ben, I'm so happy about it," she said, "because I'm going away for a while. I postponed my trip for a few days because I didn't want to leave you alone. But now the page seems to turn out well. You know what? Come on Sunday again. Then we cook together again, play the piano and you can bathe. OK?"  
Ben nodded and was surprised that the teacher had postponed her trip because of him.

When Bob came home in the evening, he called his son, "Ben, come here, I need to talk to you."  
Expectantly, the boy entered the room and sat down at the table. Bob sat down opposite him, cleared his throat and folded his hands on the tabletop.  
He knew he would provoke a new disappointment with what he now had to say to his son. Ben would see it as a breach of trust. But Bob Fraser had no choice.

The boy squatted on the edge of the chair opposite his father's and looked at him with wide eyes. His heart was up to his neck. He hadn't seen his dad very often when his mother was alive, but he still knew from Bob's body language that he wanted to tell him something that he would find extremely unpleasant.  
Bob cleared his throat, rubbed his thumb over his brow, and hesitantly began, "Well, Ben ..."  
He didn't look at the boy, just wiped his hand over the already clean table top. Then he continued, "You know, son, I didn't came home so often, that wasn't my intention, but we have a huge area to patrol, and that takes time. I also know that I can no longer do that in this form now that I have the responsibility for you ... "  
He rubbed his brow again.   
Ben was startled.   
What was his dad doing?  
Did he want to give him to the orphanage?  
He wouldn't let that happen!  
He had to bring a counterproposal immediately! "Dad!" He exclaimed excitedly, "Don't worry about that, I'll be fine when you're gone. I can easily keep the house in order, you've seen that. And when I'm alone here, I just need to take care of my stuff. I mean, laundry and stuff. Surely I can help out with Mr. Edwards, then you don't even have to send me any money. And Miss Barclay is also taking care of me. You'll see, Dad, that's easy. For sure! We can do it that way. It has worked the whole time now ..."

"Benton," Bob interrupted his tirade. I'm in charge of you, your mother wouldn't agree."  
"But Dad!", The child's voice became pleading. "You can sign a contract with Miss Barclay and send money so she'll take care of me!"  
Bob laughed harshly. "If that were so easy, son, Miss Barclay is a nice woman, but I can't ask her to do that."  
"She can also adopt me if you sign!" Ben threw in desperate.  
Giggling, Bob shook his head.  
"What you think … No, I have another idea," he said.  
Tears came to Ben's eyes and he begged, "I don't want to go to the orphanage, Dad. Please ..."  
He let his tears run wild.  
Bob smiled indulgently, got up and walked around the table.  
He stroked his boy's hair and said softly, "But Ben, who says anything about the orphanage, you should go to Inuvik. To the grandparents for a while if they agree, I wrote them a letter, you like the grandparents? And you also liked it in Inuvik. It's not forever, boy. Just until I've settled a few things."  
Ben's tears dried up.  
Inuvik.  
The grandparents!  
Of course!  
The last time he had been there, he had had a lot of fun. That could be an adventure.  
He nodded, "Ok, dad."

Ben lay in his bed and couldn't sleep.  
Inuvik!  
That would be interesting.  
But he liked living in Caribou Lake.  
Here he went to school, here lived Miss Barclay, who treated him like a son.  
Here was his mum buried.  
Here was his home.  
Inuvik, on the other hand, was huge.  
Nobody knew him there. But the grandparents lived there and he could go to school there too.  
And he had found a friend there on the last visit, Tommy Marshall, with whom he wrote letters regularly.  
Well, he wrote letters regularly. Tommy didn't like to write.  
Ben smiled. Yes, Inuvik would become one adventure.  
And Dad had said that it was only for a few weeks. Until he had settled a few things.

***************

When Ben woke up on Sunday morning, the house was tidied, breakfast made for him, but his dad wasn't there. For a moment the old fear of abandonment in the boy came to mind, but then he remembered that his dad had made him the promise not to leave him alone.  
And his dad kept his promises, after all, he was a Mountie.

Ben sat down at the kitchen table and began to eat his breakfast. Yes, Dad had made him breakfast and cleaned up the house. He would definitely come back.  
Maybe he was out in the barn?  
Or fishing?  
Or with a neighbor?  
Yes, he would certainly come back.

After breakfast, Ben cleared the table and washed the dishes. Then he got dressed and made his way to Miss Barclay. He stopped at the barn and listened. Then he pushed open the big gate and looked inside.  
"Dad?" He asked.  
"Here, son!" Came the answer.  
A rock fell from the boy's heart.

His father sat on the stem of an upside-down dog sled and smoked a pipe. The dogs scrambled around him and let themselves be scratched.  
Ben paid no attention to them.  
"You really shouldn't smoke in the barn, Dad, that's dangerous," the boy told his father.  
Bob laughed harshly. "Greenhorn! You sound like your mother."  
A brief shadow crossed his face as he mentioned his beloved wife. "Did you have breakfast?" He asked the child.  
Ben nodded. "Yes, and the dishes washed up, if you had no other responsibilities for me, I'd go to Miss Barclay now, she invited me. You don't need to cook for me, dad, I'm eating at Ms. B's. I'll be back tonight."  
Bob laughed and shouted," Get out! And I don't want to hear any complaints!"

*****************

Bob Fraser shook his head as the boy ran away.  
This little rogue!  
He loved him and only wanted the best for him. But he also knew that he couldn't take care of the child as he should. Well, hopefully his parents could step in until he had some things sorted out.  
Finally, there was an open question, but first the child had to be safe.

*******************

He had no idea of his father's worries and hardships. He ran excitedly to his teacher to bring her the news. Somehow he was looking forward to the upcoming adventure.  
"Miss Barclay!" The boy shouted from afar when he saw her working in the garden.

The teacher looked up in surprise.  
"What? Ben? So early?" She wondered.  
What happened?  
Ben didn't stop opening the garden gate, he jumped right over the fence.  
"Miss Barclay ...," he gasped out of breath, "I ... I have ..."  
The young teacher looked him in the bright eyes and knew it could only be good news, which he delivered there.  
"Calm down, Benton," she said with a smile, but the boy jumped up and down like a rubber ball and gasped.

Miss Barclay put down the pick and took Ben by the shoulders.  
"Easy, child," she said softly. "Take a deep breath."  
Ben tried.  
Then he blurted out, "Ms. B., you can visit your family, I'm going on a journey as well!"  
The teacher frowned.  
"What?" She asked, confused.  
What did Bob Fraser intend to do with the child?

Ben had calmed down and said, "Dad cleaned up the cabin and made me breakfast, and he's shaved and he wants to go back to work and because he has to figure something out for work because he's been patrolling for so many weeks, he wrote a letter to the grandparents in Inuvik asking them if they could take care of me for a while. But I'm sure they will do it! Grandmother Fraser is a bit strict, but Grandpa loves me. He taught me to fish and play the guitar."  
Well, the latter wasn't quite right. He had tried Grandpa's guitar, but it had been quite big.  
His mom wanted to buy him a children's guitar, but now …

He sighed sadly.  
"Are you okay?" Ms Barclay asked. "It just sounded like you were happy."  
Ben looked at her with his big blue eyes.  
"Yes, I am, Ma'am ...", he said softly, "it's just ...My mom wanted to give me a children's guitar because grandfather's guitar is so big. But that can't be done now."   
"Oh, Ben." Miss Barclay hugged him in. "Let's go in, okay? "  
The boy nodded.

The teacher and the boy spent a nice day together. They cooked together, played the piano, worked in the garden for a while and even went for a walk.  
Miss Barclay told Ben that she would leave on Tuesday.  
"When I come back, you're probably already in Inuvik," she said.  
Ben nodded.  
"Yes, that's right," he answered, "but I'll be back after the holidays, after all I have to go back to school."  
Ms. Barclay agreed, but couldn't help the feeling that she wouldn't see little Fraser again so soon.  
She had taken him into her heart, but it was probably best for him if he came somewhere to look after him properly.  
After Ben had bathed and they had dinner, he said goodbye with the promise to accompany his teacher to the airfield on Tuesday.

******************

On Tuesday morning, Ben got up very early. After all, he didn't want to miss to accompany Miss Barclay to the airfield.  
He wondered if he would also travel to Inuvik by plane.  
Or would he go with his dad the long way in the pickup, as he did with his mum?  
Ms Barclay was already waiting for him. She was sorry that she might not see him again. She had taken this brave, warm and helpful child into her heart.  
But she also knew that this kid would go his own way. Ben was stronger than he looked, especially mentally.

"Ready, Ms. B?" Ben wanted to take her suitcase, but she fended off.  
"Yes, Ben, but I prefer to carry my suitcase myself."  
Ben looked disappointed. "But a gentleman carries the luggage for a lady, my mom said that, and she was incredibly smart," he protested.  
Miss Barclay smiled.  
'You'll sure become a real gentleman when you grow up,' she thought, 'but right now you're a rather small six-year-old who I can't afford to carry the heavy suitcase to the airfield.'  
Aloud she said, "That's very classy of you, Ben and your mum was absolutely right, but please let me take the suitcase, you can carry the bag if you want."  
So the boy agreed.

The farewell at the airfield was very emotional. Although Ben was determined not to cry, he couldn't suppress the tears.  
Ms. Barclay also shed tears. She hugged the boy tightly.  
"I love you very much, Ben," she said softly. "Please never forget that."  
Ben sobbed. "I love you too, Ms. B. You're the best teacher in the world."  
Then he swallowed the tears and said bravely, "But it's only for the summer. In the fall we'll meet again when the new school year starts."  
Miss Barclay nodded.  
She hoped it was true but didn't believe it.  
"I'll write you a letter every day, Miss B.," Ben promised, but the teacher knew it wouldn't happen too.  
Ben was a carefree six-year-old who would experience so many adventures in Inuvik that he would forget the letter writing after a week at the latest.  
But that was okay.

Ben proudly patted the chest pocket of his slightly oversized shirt and said firmly: "I have the note with both addresses here, ma'am, from here and from Whitehorse. When I get home, I'll put it right in my treasure chest. In it I collect everything that is important to me. Mum's embroidered handkerchief, the compass Dad gave me, the Indian figure my friend Tommy from Inuvik gave me last year ... Yes, I'm really looking forward to see Tommy."  
He smiled.  
It would be a great summer.

Ben didn't know that he would lose another important person.  
"I have to go now," said Ms. Barclay, stroking the boy's hair. "Be good, Ben."  
He nodded and watched her as she climbed into the small bush plane.  
Then he stood in the deserted place for a long time. The plane had long disappeared in the clouds.

Suddenly it occurred to him that he had intended to give Ms Barclay something. But in the excitement of the last days he had forgotten it.  
But as always, he had a solution for it.  
"I'll buy her something beautiful in Inuvik," he murmured contentedly and ran home.

*******************

A few days later Bob Fraser received the long-awaited letter from his parents. They write:

Dear Robert!

It's time for you to start living again and make nails with heads. It's bad what happened to poor Caroline, but life goes on.  
Of course you can send Benton to us for a while, when you have well-ordered your life.  
The poor boy has lost his beloved mother and needs someone to take care of him.  
I know it's too early, but maybe you should think about getting married again.  
You need a wife and Ben a mother, even if Caroline is irreplaceable.  
We all miss her very much.  
Let us know when you will arrive with the boy, we look forward to seeing you.

Best regards,  
Your parents

P.S. Please, also gave Ben very dear greetings.

*********************

When Ben came home, his father told him the news and the boy got very excited.  
"When are we going, Dad?" He asked, hopping from one leg to the other.  
Bob laughed.  
"Always slow with the young horses, son, I have to organize that first. Inuvik isn't just around the corner."

Two days later, Bob Fraser told his supervisor that he would be able to resume his job soon. "My parents take the boy, Sir, until we find a compromise."  
Inspector Williams was pleased.

***************

Ben couldn't sleep. Again and again he got up and checked his luggage.  
Did he really not forget anything? Finally, tomorrow would be the big day. His dad and he would travel to Inuvik.  
By plane!  
Ben had flown once. But he had hardly noticed. He had been just turned four and fallen from a tree.  
He broke two ribs and his wrist. The village doctor had decided to let him fly to the nearest hospital for safety.  
But this time he would notice everything. Dad's boss had organized a bush pilot who had to go to Inuvik anyway.

Despite the excitement, the boy eventually fell asleep, dreaming of the adventures he would experience in Inuvik.   
Tomorrow would be the first day of a new life and when he came back in the fall, he would have a lot to talk about.

He had no idea that he would never return to Caribou Lake ...

TYK


End file.
